Stories of buttons and breadhttps://elizabethbecker1.wordpress.com
Exploring community life and work
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1 http://wordpress.com/https://s0.wp.com/i/buttonw-com.pngStories of buttons and breadhttps://elizabethbecker1.wordpress.com
Alison Ashbyhttps://elizabethbecker1.wordpress.com/2018/12/15/alison-ashby/
https://elizabethbecker1.wordpress.com/2018/12/15/alison-ashby/#respondSat, 15 Dec 2018 13:19:25 +0000http://elizabethbecker1.wordpress.com/?p=7003Continue reading →]]>In response to last week’s post about Wittunga Botanical Gardens, Nicky (marvellous supporter of this blog and its producer) responded with a link to Alison Ashby, daughter of the original owner of the property and sister to Keith, who gave the place to the Botanical Gardens in 1965. Alison was a very accomplished flower painter, plant lover and conservationist. I had only a vague knowledge of her from the postcards of her work available at the Botanical Gardens shop, but it interested me that such a dynamic woman, with such a close connection to Wittunga and her own life-long commitment to plants would not be mentioned in the information about the Gardens. Could it be an undervaluing of the role of women playing a part in this? Anyway, I found the information about her fascinating (here is the link) and so I thought I would do a little post about her. Her dedication to plants and nature, and her generosity in donating her own property (Watiparinga) in Eden Hills to the National Trust in the 1950’s are inspiring. It is interesting that the family were Quakers – whose practical social justice orientation is well known.

Here are some pictures, from the internet, of Alison and her art…

]]>https://elizabethbecker1.wordpress.com/2018/12/15/alison-ashby/feed/0elizabethbecker1Weeping, drooping, prostrate and gorgeoushttps://elizabethbecker1.wordpress.com/2018/12/08/weeping-drooping-prostrate-and-gorgeous/
https://elizabethbecker1.wordpress.com/2018/12/08/weeping-drooping-prostrate-and-gorgeous/#commentsSat, 08 Dec 2018 12:50:10 +0000http://elizabethbecker1.wordpress.com/?p=6947Continue reading →]]>I went to Wittunga Botanical Garden today – first time I have been there for ages. It was originally a property – house and land – which was left to the state’s botanical gardens in the 1960’s – by the son of the original owner. He was a big gardener apparently, and was particularly interested in native gardens – unusual for that time. He also saw the links between Australian and South African plants, and the similarities of climate here in South Australia and South Africa. Consequently, the garden is full of proteas, leucodendrons, banksias, ericas, correas, hakeas, and on and on. It also has a couple of lakes, many birds, and is beautiful. I was particularly struck by the weeping forms of plants, and the elegance of drooping branches and prostrate forms too – this suggestion of, what, weakness, or limpness, in the naming of the plants belied by their actual beauty. I suspect sometimes that our own weaknesses are also beauties in disguise as well. Or at least that our beauty is made more so (somehow) by the inevitability of what we lack. But this might just be hopeful thinking on my part!
Here are some pics from the day (click to enlarge) …

]]>https://elizabethbecker1.wordpress.com/2018/12/08/weeping-drooping-prostrate-and-gorgeous/feed/4elizabethbecker1“A book and a friend”https://elizabethbecker1.wordpress.com/2018/12/01/a-book-and-a-friend/
https://elizabethbecker1.wordpress.com/2018/12/01/a-book-and-a-friend/#respondFri, 30 Nov 2018 23:29:42 +0000http://elizabethbecker1.wordpress.com/?p=6937Continue reading →]]>When I was young I came across a cheesy quotation that of course appealed to me hugely – cheesiness having always been part of my nature – “These choose with prudence, a book and a friend: they should charm at the start and be true to the end”. I have always been mad for books and have far too many for my small flat. Here is a pic of some (few) of them.

These shelves are double stacked, there are more shelves in this room and more in my bedroom, plus piles, and even more in the sun room. I really should cull. Anyway that is another story!

For many years I have been getting most of the books I have bought from Imprints, in Hindley Street (They had a membership card in the early days. Mine is number 51!). This week they had their pre-Christmas party, and I thought it was about time I celebrated this terrific place and its people. Jason and Katherine have been there for many years (since they were children really!) – they both had time at the old location nearby – with Greg, Gail and Trish all those years ago (the place opened in 1984, and they came on-board in the early ’90’s). I have bought lots of terrific stuff from them. They have increased my reading scope and introduced me to many great writers; they are willing to help to find anything, just about, that you could possibly want, book-wise; they are generous and friendly and great to visit. They provide the books and have become friends, as per the cheesy quote.

I meant to take pictures at the shop at party time, but I forgot, in the flurry of books and the deliciousness of the chocolate and peanut brownie thingy and the raspberry ditto that I was plied with. So I took some photos when I went in belatedly for a pressie I had forgotten, and then Katherine and Jason were a bit camera shy. Ella was there too, temporarily on staff (and J’s daughter). And there are others who have and do also work there – currently Jo and Ben. So the photos are a bit haphazard (Ella sent me one also, and I got one from the website too), but the appreciation of the people and the place is not. Hooray for bookstores, especially of the non-chain, off-line variety – they liven up a town no end if you are a book lover – and particular hoorays to Imprints. (Click on pictures as usual to enlarge)

]]>https://elizabethbecker1.wordpress.com/2018/12/01/a-book-and-a-friend/feed/0elizabethbecker1IMG_8373[1]Remembering Mr Coganhttps://elizabethbecker1.wordpress.com/2018/11/25/remembering-mr-cogan/
https://elizabethbecker1.wordpress.com/2018/11/25/remembering-mr-cogan/#respondSun, 25 Nov 2018 03:32:38 +0000http://elizabethbecker1.wordpress.com/?p=6917Continue reading →]]>I went up to Auburn again this week, spending a few days with dad and enjoying the pleasures of country life. On Friday we went to Undalya again to have a look at the old cemetery there, on the site of the old Catholic church, which was demolished decades ago. It is not quiet there – noise from the main road floats up, but it is still. A family of kangaroos drifted through the trees – big buck, with a female and young one.

The gravestones contain many names I don’t know – product of it being a place that hasn’t been used much for many years, but one that I did recognise was Edwin Horace Cogan. Seeing his stone there brought back memories for both dad and me. Ted lived next door to us, his house facing Port Road beside our paddock, and his paddock next to our front garden. His wife was Auntie Georgie; she died when I was very little and I don’t remember her – dad says she was lovely though. She was the actual aunt of my aunt, so not just called ‘Auntie’ as so many older people were in those days. In the early days, the Cogans kept a cow, Myrtle, in their paddock, and gave us milk from her every day – what a kindness. Sometimes they were visited by their daughter and little grandson and the little boy would bring the milk and get a treat from my mum, dad tells me.

By the time I remember him, Ted lived alone and was a grumpy old man from the kids’ point of view. My main memory of him is getting squirted with his hose when we kids used to sneak through his garden to take a shortcut home. My sister Jane, cousin Mary, brother Richard and me would come home for lunch most days. It would have been quicker to come down from the school, through his gate and into our paddock, then through the chook yard to the back door, but Mr Cogan wouldn’t have a bar of it. No doubt we were cheeky to him, but he would get very cross when he saw us and chase us round the house with his garden hose.

He died in about 1970 as far as I remember (and my memory isn’t fantastic, so the dates may well be out), when he was 90ish – which seemed an immense age to me, and would mean he was born around 1880. He worked as a labourer dad tells me, doing heavy work, making wells, digging dams, lots of hard physical work. His ‘clearing sale’ after his death, was held our back paddock – I clearly remember all his bits and pieces spread around the yard.

There are few reminders of his life – hopefully that little boy who brought the milk over may still be alive, and perhaps some of those wells and dams are still in use; his simple headstone has no dates, and I have no photos of him. His house is still there, and Myrtle’s paddock, and there are some memories, gradually fading, for dad and me and others from those days. In this he is like so many people – unassuming lives, but lived vividly and in full colour at the time, disappear as time goes by. But he did live, he played his part, and it is good to think of him… Here are some photos of the cemetery, the kangaroos, and of Mr Cogan’s place (click to enlarge as usual).

I spent some time again this week in Auburn with dad. It is really pleasant to be out of town, and to have the company of my dear old dad – he enjoys it too. We have a routine of feeding the chooks in the morning, collecting the eggs, breakfast and showering etc, dad does some jobs out in the shed and I cook or prepare meals for both of us. The garden has to be watered, and sometime during the day we have a walk together, and often also call into the shop. It is simple and easy and restoring.

This week was a bit special though as Bet and Ed, dear friends who live in the hills outside of Adelaide came up to the Clare Valley for a few days to stay at a local b&b. We met and went out to lunch in Watervale one day, and then went out again the following day. Ed is a fantastic photographer who has appeared in these pages before and I have yearned for a long time to get a photograph of dad and me together beside my favourite tree (which has also appeared here before). So we went for a drive, found the tree and took some pics. It was lovely to show my pals some of my special places, to celebrate Bet’s birthday (a bit belatedly) and to appreciate the pleasures of friendship, especially in the wake of my bout of ill-health. Bet (and others) have been so caring and encouraging as I get back to full strength.

She and Ed also visited me at home a week or two ago – we spent a bit of time down at the beach looking out at the sea.

This pic wasn’t taken at the time, but you get the idea!

While we were there a photo shoot set up near us, with a very elegant and striking looking model wearing a fabulously frou frou frock. When I got back home late this week, there she was on the front page of the local paper – turns out the dress was created by a 16 year old local, Ana Samaras, who took an eye-watering 540 hours to make it. She has won an award in the Teenage Fashion and Arts Youth Awards and is obviously aspiring to a fashion industry future.

There are always hints of other lives and other possibilities around us – ancient trees butted up against the newest of the new, history and the long past with the unfolding blankness of what will come, tomorrow. Life is a bit of a swirl. Within it all, it is precious to have opportunities to celebrate friends and to link parts of life that I usually live independently. It’s connecting and nourishing, buttons and bread – the perfect topic for this blog.

I’ve just got back from the second Social Developers Network gathering here in Adelaide, following on from the memorable weekend just two years ago that I wrote about here. I could almost repeat what I wrote at that time, for it was again an uplifting, creative and powerful event, with a bunch of lovely people, but this time was its own , and I will write a little about it in honour of its own special qualities.

We met again at the CWA headquarters, a lovely old building and pretty comfortable quarters for a weekend away (though harder for those with physical difficulties). Peter Willis was again instrumental in planning and running the weekend, and brought together many of those who attended. It was in some ways a reunion, as there were many of the same faces here this time as last. Peter’s commitment to social connection and working with others to make a good life and a better world is really marvellous. He, Ivo (who attended the first workshop a couple of years ago, and who is excellent value too), and I were the ‘planning group’ but I must say, I really feel that Peter and Ivo get most of the credit, as my illness meant that I was absent from much of the work at crucial times.

As previously, it was a meeting of elders for the most part, people who have contributed to community life and activism over many years. This in itself is amazing to be part of – that long history of commitment and action, and the wisdom and knowledge, understanding and perspective that come with time, were much in evidence. The format of the sessions was the same as last time – each person presenting on their own topic for a 90 minute slot – the topics were very varied and the sense of support and attention fantastic to experience.

We had a few people from interstate – John and Mary are on the board of SDN and have done amazing work in a broad range of areas over many years, Jacques came again from Melbourne – he is part of Borderlands Cooperative which publishes New Community, the community development journal, among other things. Bernie came from Melbourne too – a dynamo and friend of Peter, and Judi (who also has a long connection with SDN, and is a lovely woman) came down from Queensland, which was fantastic. The Adelaide folk included David, Peter, Susan B, Susan H, Richard, Ivo and me from last time, and Stephen, Noel and Helen who came for the first time. We had a few folk who have an education background – Bernie spoke passionately about teachers as advocates for students and his hope that this can become a recognised part of school life, Noel spoke about the powerful role of principals in schools and explored ideas around the concept of ‘need’. Peter has a long history in education too, but he spoke really movingly about living joyously and in connection with others as his physical health deteriorates somewhat. We all had a few laughs about mythopoeic ideation (not quite sure if I have that right even now!). Susan H and Helen also spoke about health and disability issues – they are both strong and powerful women, humourous and feisty and this is an area where their own experience will count for a lot. Stephen also spoke with great commitment about working with older people and his reflections on the importance of relationship, agency, meaning and purpose for people who live in nursing homes (where depression is currently far too prevalent) – it was amazing to hear about his work, which will hopefully have a big impact over time. John and Mary spoke about restorative practice as an alternative to more punitive approaches in the justice area but in other arenas also – again, themes of relationship, honesty and connection came through this presentation. John also spoke about secular volunteers in hospital taking on roles that religious chaplains might do, but for people who are not religious. Judi spoke about a terrific program in primary schools in Queensland that she has been part of to make life easier for people of different cultures, called “Getting to know one another – it’s a two way street” – again, relationship building and connection to build peace and reduce fear. Richard also spoke about fear and the ways it can limit us individually and as societies. He also made space for us to connect to the environment around us, and to reflect and ground ourselves, which was fantastic for us all. David gave us an update on his work with Aboriginal communities in the APY lands, and the film he has made with Carol his wife about her creative work with women who have been in domestic violence or who have experienced other traumas. Jacques has a very deep and broad perspective on things and such a principled way of living. He spoke about the importance of relating and connecting, not just with each other, but with the non-human world also. Ivo spoke about communication and the work he does with people from the perspective that ‘everything is communication’ (more relating and connecting). He also contributed a lot to the smooth running of the weekend and was a fantastic asset to the whole event. Susan B spoke about her experiences after WW2 as a refugee and then coming to Australia. She is a dynamo! I did a presentation about creativity and beauty in ordinary life.

We had fantastic food and enjoyable times over meals together too, and great contact with the CWA staff too.

It was a wonderful experience to be part of and I am grateful to have the opportunity to be there. I will continue to reflect on all that took place, and the connections that I made with amazing people.

Here are a few more photos…

]]>https://elizabethbecker1.wordpress.com/2018/11/12/reflecting-and-connecting/feed/2elizabethbecker1IMG_8266Magic stickshttps://elizabethbecker1.wordpress.com/2018/11/04/magic-stick/
https://elizabethbecker1.wordpress.com/2018/11/04/magic-stick/#commentsSun, 04 Nov 2018 12:01:29 +0000http://elizabethbecker1.wordpress.com/?p=6847Continue reading →]]>Last night I went to the annual fundraiser for the Graham F Smith Peace Trust, along with most of the other Trustees of the Suzanne Elliott Charitable Trust. We also went to an event put on by them a few weeks ago at the Norwood Town Hall, featuring performances of various sorts by secondary school students on themes of peace, social justice and environmental sustainability. Both events were terrific and highlighted how important it is to take action and do things to create a better world.

Last night, the guest speaker for the event was an artist based in Victoria, Bill Kelly. He has been creating art for many years, and has pursued themes relating to peace, nonviolence and anti-war activities during that time. It was moving and inspiring to hear him speak. One thing he said that struck a chord with me was when he spoke about his pencil not as a ‘pencil’ but as a ‘magic stick’ with which we can make new things that have not been there before and contribute to change in the world. This brought back the work of Sarah Sentilles, whom I wrote about here earlier in the year, and her thoughts about art as a way to start to think about broader social change. For many of us who are not ‘artists’, we can still use our creativity in our lives and work, to make changes in our communities or families, or in the relationships we have with anyone really. We are ourselves little magic sticks perhaps…

Anyway, the Graham Smith Peace Trust is a fantastic organisation that in its own specific way is contributing to creative and innovative change in the world. It was a treat to be among such good people, doing positive and life-enhancing things. As part of the evening, they announced their major award for this year, a $10000 grant, which went to the team making a documentary film about Bill Kelly (the speaker for the night). A great way to acknowledge a lifetime of work on his part and to assist the film makers in their work on this project. Their was also an art auction, a raffle, some funny prizes, some great entertainment, a lovely meal and great company.

Here are some pics…

]]>https://elizabethbecker1.wordpress.com/2018/11/04/magic-stick/feed/2elizabethbecker1Food for Freedomhttps://elizabethbecker1.wordpress.com/2018/10/28/food-for-freedom/
https://elizabethbecker1.wordpress.com/2018/10/28/food-for-freedom/#commentsSun, 28 Oct 2018 06:49:19 +0000http://elizabethbecker1.wordpress.com/?p=6844Continue reading →]]>Yesterday we had a small event at the community garden in Hackham West that is managed by CHO, to thank those involved in the past year with the Food for Freedom program. This is a service that has run for around 3 years overall, but like many great community initiatives, we have run out of funding for it to continue at present. Twice a week, in collaboration with the homelessness and domestic violence services in the south, the team cooked and delivered fresh meals to people in emergency accommodation, often in motels with no cooking facilities. This meant cooking, sometimes, more than 100 meals per night and then delivering these meals. It was a feat of organisation and showed great support for people in difficult situations – often women and children moving away from domestic violence, but other forms of homelessness and difficulty also. We held a celebration of the work that has been done and the commitment shown by a fab team of community members who have contributed their labour freely, and by the coordinator, who was paid (though not for as many hours as she put in). It was a lovely event, and great to see those who attended. We also had a food event at the same time – Food Embassy, a local food not for profit business, ran a workshop cooking Asian-style food with ingredients that can be grown in home gardens – cold rolls and Chinese pancakes. Delicious! It was a small way to show gratitude for the work and commitment people have shown – how often is social change (eg supporting women to leave domestic violence) underpinned by the unpaid efforts of committed people who just do the work, day after day??

L-r: Kat (coordinator), Rosita, Shayne, Vienna, Kim, EB and Gail, some of the volunteers at Food for Freedom in 2018…

]]>https://elizabethbecker1.wordpress.com/2018/10/28/food-for-freedom/feed/2elizabethbecker1Food for FreedomIn praise of librarieshttps://elizabethbecker1.wordpress.com/2018/10/21/in-praise-of-libraries/
https://elizabethbecker1.wordpress.com/2018/10/21/in-praise-of-libraries/#commentsSat, 20 Oct 2018 21:34:38 +0000http://elizabethbecker1.wordpress.com/?p=6838Continue reading →]]>As my health improves it has been great to catch up a bit with things that have been going on around the place while I have been out of action. One thing was World Mental Health Day, which happened on 10 October. I am sure there were heaps of activities that happened on that day all over the place, but I want to concentrate on the contribution of the Mental Health Library, staffed by my good pal Kathy and her colleagues Ros, Karen, Nikki and June (who have appeared briefly in these pages before) , who spend some of their time at the library at Glenside – which has long been home to a range of mental health services in SA. So, along with the sausage sizzle, yoga, tai chi, an appearance of Betty the therapy dog, and music (a band), the library had a stall with give away plants in little pots, chocolate frogs, aromatherapy (featuring lavender), colouring in pages, ideas for things to do on a ‘mental health day’ and books to give away on that theme. They were thrilled that everything went – and that those attending connected well with their stall.

I am struck by the importance of libraries as kinds of neutral spaces – places where people are not pathologised or separated off from others. I love Kathy’s attitude that everyone, everyone, has a right to access information and the assistance that libraries can provide – staff and workers certainly, but also ‘clients’ or ‘patients’ or just ‘the general public’ too. They can potentially be and often are places of peace and welcome for people who feel ostracised in the general run of things. It is so important that these kinds of spaces exist and it’s a shame that they are so rare. So, a big thanks to the library team for providing this welcoming, accepting and open approach, not just on World Mental Health Day, but every day.

Last week was the first time for ages I haven’t done a post. This was because I was in hospital for heaven’s sake, with a grim little infection (meningococcal meningitis) that really flattened me. I had been laid low at home for the whole week before going into hospital on Thursday, where I received excellent treatment and the right antibiotics. By Saturday I was feeling much better and would love to have done a post, but didn’t have the computer.

I had my friend bring me in some poetry books to hospital, as I felt sure I would find something there that would help me amid the hurly burly of the hospital world and the unfamiliarity of being unwell. I found the following poem, which I had never read before, by a Canadian poet Alden Nowlan (1933 – 83), which really moved me and soothed me. The language is a bit ‘of it’s time’, but read over that…

He Sits Down on the Floor of a School for the Retarded

I sit down on the floor of a school for the retarded,
a writer of magazine articles accompanying a band
that was met at the door by a child in a man’s body
who asked them, “Are you the surprise they promised us?”

It’s Ryan’s Fancy, Dermot on guitar,
Fergus on banjo, Denis on penny-whistle.
In the eyes of this audience, they’re everybody
who has ever appeared on TV. I’ve been telling lies
to a boy who cried because his favourite detective
hadn’t come with us; I said he had sent his love
and, no, I didn’t think he’d mind if I signed his name
to a scrap of paper: when the boy took it, he said,
“Nobody will ever get this away from me,”
in the voice, more hopeless than defiant,
of one accustomed to finding that his hiding places
have been discovered, used to having objects snatched
out of his hands. Weeks from now I’ll send him
another autograph, this one genuine
in the sense of having been signed by somebody
on the same payroll as the star.
Then I’ll feel less ashamed. Now everyone is singing,
“Old MacDonald had a farm,” and I don’t know what to do

about the young woman (I call her a woman
because she’s twenty-five at least, but think of her
as a little girl, she plays that part so well,
having known no other), about the young woman who
sits down beside me and, as if it were the most natural
thing in the world, rests her head on my shoulder.

It’s nine o’clock in the morning, not an hour for music.
And, at the best of times, I’m uncomfortable
in situations where I’m ignorant
of the accepted etiquette: it’s one thing
to jump a fence, quite another thing to blunder
into one in the dark. I look around me
for a teacher to whom to smile out my distress.
They’re all busy elsewhere. “Hold me,” she whispers. “Hold me.”

I put my arm around her. “Hold me tighter.”
I do, and she snuggles closer. I half-expect
someone in authority to grab her
or me; I can imagine this being remembered
for ever as the time the sex-crazed writer
publicly fondled the poor retarded girl.
“Hold me,” she says again. What does it matter
what anybody thinks? I put my other arm around her,
rest my chin in her hair, thinking of children
real children, and of how they say it, “Hold me,”
and of a patient in a geriatric ward
I once heard crying out to his mother, dead
for half a century, “I’m frightened! Hold me!”
and of a boy-soldier screaming it on the beach
at Dieppe, of Nelson in Hardy’s arms,
of Frieda gripping Lawrence’s ankle
until he sailed off in his Ship of Death.

It’s what we all want, in the end,
to be held, merely to be held,
to be kissed (not necessarily with the lips,
for every touching is a kind of kiss).

She hugs me now, this retarded woman, and I hug her.
We are brother and sister, father and daughter,
mother and son, husband and wife.
We are lovers. We are two human beings
huddled together for a little while by the fire
in the Ice Age, two hundred thousand years ago.

Alden Nowlan

Reading this put me into another headspace, where it was much easier to cope with all the noise and uncertainty and weirdness of hospital wards, and with my own emotional state (up and down). Remembering that we all just want ‘to be held’ – and that I did and had felt ‘held’ – by my dear ones, especially those who were flying around me like fairies through the whole time before and during hospital, by my doctor, who was fantastic, by the hospital staff (especially during the time in Emergency) who were so focussed on getting me well, and by my friends – was very consoling.

Now I am at home again and into recovery mode, and thankfully feeling heaps better.